


Warm up writings

by seizethosegays



Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Gen, Mentions of Sexual Activities, More stuff but not major enough to tag, Other, Roommates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 20:52:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18269141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seizethosegays/pseuds/seizethosegays
Summary: A series of small little things I write to get into the mood for longer fics





	1. (Un)Predictable Mornings

Albert has known Race long enough to know what to expect simply by what he’s doing when Albert wakes up. Sometimes, Race is up making breakfast for the two. Those days, Race is as sweet as can be and doesn’t get into much trouble. Some days, Race doesn’t make breakfast but is up and moving around. Those days Race is a little more chaotic than normal. Often times Race has had two cups of coffee by the time Albert drinks one. Those days Albert doesn't leave Race alone, he’ll get himself into trouble.

Today was different than one of the usual days. Albert woke up, rubbed his eyes and opened and closed his mouth a few times to get rid of the warm fuzzy feeling. The faint smell of breakfast lured him out of the room. He was in his boxers and his hair was a mess but, hey, breakfast is more important than clothes. 

The tired and groggy boy expected to see Race standing at the stove in an oversized sleep shirt making bacon and pancakes, but the blonde was nowhere to be seen. Albert furrowed his brows and blinked a couple times. If Race wasn’t making breakfast, why could he smell it? He stalked across the cold hardwood floor to the sink. Full of dishes. Beside the sink was a plate with pancakes and bacon, next to it was a glass of orange juice and a note. 

“I made you some breakfast before I had to leave. Don’t worry, I already ate. I’ll be home soon.

Race  
P.S. Don’t touch my shit”

Albert laughed and grabbed the plate. It was quiet in the apartment without Race’s loud laughter and occasional snide remarks. And, to be honest, Albert kinda missed it. Race had a way of bringing life into any situation he was put into. 

All morning and an hour into the afternoon, Albert sulked on the couch, missing the company of his mischievous blonde roommate. Breakfast had been finished and the empty glass and clean plate sat on the coffee table, abandoned. At some point the ginger had grabbed the throw blanket sitting on the couch, feeling the soft fabric in his calloused hands before flopping down onto the couch and throwing it over his body. 

Nearly an hour into the second Thor movie, the redhead heard the door slam open and the padding of feet across the floor just made him curious, so Albert sat up, letting the blanket fall to the floor. Race turned the corner. His hair was a mess, sticking up in odd places and coated with glitter of all kinds of colours. The blonde had a full face of makeup, a pair of heels in his hand, and he was wearing an oversized sleep shirt still. But… it wasn’t his. It was big on him, sure, but not in length. It stopped just high enough so you could see his boxers, but Albert couldn’t see them. Albert bit his lip to stop from smiling.

Race looked him up and down, then smirked, “hot, Al. Nice boxers ya got there. They’d look better on my bedroom floor.”

Albert rolled his eyes, ignoring the scarlet tint that suddenly took up the pale space on his cheeks. Albert then noticed Race’s lack of paints. He never left home without them. Not after last time.

“Race, what happened to your pants?” he tilted his head to the side, eyeing the other boys legs with curiosity.

“Not important. Did ya like breakfast?” Race pulled the shirt down further, clearly attempting his lack of boxers.

“Race,” Albert bit back a grin, “what happened to your-”

“I lost a bet,” Race gave him a warning look that Albert chose to ignore. But he didn’t ignore the blush that spread from Race’s cheeks to the tips of his ears.

“Why-” 

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Race shifted his weight from one leg to another. 

“Dude, you can sit down,” Albert raised his eyebrows, watching as Race scratched at the back of his neck. 

“I think I’m gonna go put some pants on,” Race turned to leave. Albert laid back down and watched his roommate head down the hall to his room. 

“Hey, Race!” Albert called from his position on the couch.

“What!” Race yelled back, sticking his head out of his room. 

“Does Spot want me to wash his shirt before you decide to give it back next time you fuck?!!” Albert watched in satisfaction as Race’s cheeks and ears turned bright red.

“Shut up!” Race yelled, throwing one of his ratty old band shirts at the ginger. 

Albert laughed, “I’m just checkin!” 

Race was usually predictable based on what he does in the morning. But sometimes.. Sometimes something unexpected happens. Yeah, his life is crazy, as are his friends, but Albert loves each and every one of them.


	2. Theatre Major

Spot Conlon. Now that was a name everyone knew. That was a name that stories came with it. No one but friends will know what’s true and what’s false. And the boy in question? He had heard all the stories before, and not one of them bothered him. Sure, he was only 5’4 but with one look he could make even the largest of men afraid to even breathe in his general direction. 

Spot Conlon was tough, menacing, and he’d break every bone in your body if you even looked at him. But… was he really? Sure, he can look that way sometimes but once you get to know him, which is really hard to do, he’s a total softy and a nerd. A theatre nerd to be exact. And all his friends knew that. Hell, even his boyfriend knew that. 

Crutchie stood in the halls with Race, Buttons, Smalls, and Elmer. It was the end of the day and they were ready to go, they were just waiting for Spot to come meet them to head out. And soon enough he appeared through the crowds, a scowl on his face. If this were a cartoon, Crutchie was sure he’d have steam coming from his ears right about now. 

“What’s got ya so upset, shortstack?” the corners of Race’s mouth lifted to a smile. 

 

“Shut it, Anthony,” Spot glared up at the taller boy. Race held his hands up in mock surrender, putting them into his pockets. “Who the hell is sending me emails and notes telling me to join the army? I’m a theatre major, for fucks sake!!! I can’t do that!!” 

Crutchie but his cheek to hide his smile, “is it Jack? He’s always tryin to convince you to join up at home.” Spot stopped for a second. Crutchie shifted his weight to lean on his crutch as Jack and Davey rounded the corner. “Speaking up, there’s Jack now.” 

The murderous look in Spot’s eyes was enough to tell Crutchie that his foster brother was definitely in for it. The short boy ran at Jack, who ran.

“Kelly, I swear to god if you don’t stop-” Crutchie couldn’t hear Spot’s yellin after that. 

“You still puttin those in his locker?” Buttons asked. 

“Hell yeah I am, Buttons,” Crutchie smiled. “And I’m glad I did. Jack’s in for it.” And he really was.


End file.
